Scarlet Hands
by The Great Kelly The Great
Summary: A Draco POV. His life is terrible, and he wants a way out. Killing himself seems the only way. And it appears it is. PG-13 just in case (again, like all my other short lil angst-y fics like this). Please leave a review and go read my other fic


Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, are you happy????????  I prefer to live, here in my house, innocent of all charges and writing my fics.

A/N Please review and go read my other fics.  I am starved for feedback.  Please tell me if you hate, love, worship, like etc. this fic.  Draco's POV.

Scarlet Hands 

          I had made my decision.  My mind was already made up, but I pretended like it wasn't.  I pretended I had a choice.

I was in my favorite place in the world, including at Hogwarts and at home.  The top of a hill, surrounded by trees.  I was hidden from view, but I could the entire half of the castle facing me.  

At the moment I could look right into the Great Hall, where everyone was gathered for the Christmas feast.  They all looked so happy, content with the lives they led.  So different from me.

Except Potter, I noticed.  He was trying his hardest to look happy, but every so often he would focus on something and stare at it, and I knew he was thinking about the third task and Cedric.

I feel no pity for him.  It's about time he went through something that made him wake up and see how fragile, how precarious our lives are.  

And I am about to end my fragile, precarious life.  It shouldn't be that hard if it is so delicate.

Lying next to me on the snow was our family sword.  "The Malfoy Blade has been passed down in our family for years.  My father, Lucian Malfoy, gave it to me on my twelfth birthday, as I, Lucius Malfoy, give it to you on yours.  If you want to kill yourself, though why you would want to, being a Malfoy, you kill yourself with this sword."

These are the words my father spoke to me on my twelfth birthday.  I was in awe.  But, then again, back then I still wanted nothing more than to become a Death Eater.

I lifted my sleeve against the biting cold and looked at the Dark Mark branded onto my arm.  I had never shown it to anyone, though many of the Slytherins had been brought into the Death Eaters this year.  They showed the Dark Mark tattoo on their arm off, as if it was a prize.  But it was a death sentence.

I had also brought a roll of parchment out with me.  I was going to write four letters: to my father, to my mother, to Potter and his friends, and to the person who finds my body.

I picked up the Malfoy Blade; it was heavy in my hand.  The hilt was strangely warm, even if it was bitingly cold outside.  I cut the parchment in four pieces and began to write.  First to my father.

_Dear Father,_

You will never see me again, alive.  I am killing myself soon after I write this letter.  You once told me that if I were to , I would do so with the Malfoy Blade.  I am honoring your wishes.

_You are wondering why I am killing myself, when I have it so good.  That is a statement, not a question, Father.  _

_I am killing myself because of you.  You have been terrible to me, all my life.  I never got anything I wished.  Do you know the one thing I wished for, above all others, all my life?_

_Love.  I want you to love me, like fathers are supposed to their sons.  Everything I did was wrong, or in some way not up to your wishes.  You abused me, insulted me, forced me to do things.  Did I ever tell you I never wished to become a Death Eater?  Well, that's a lie.  When I idolized you, when I wished to be just like you, I never wanted to become anything more than a Death Eater.  But that changed, when I learned to hate you._

_You killed me Father, much as you wish to deny it.  Because even if it is my hand that forces the blade into my chest, it was yours that drove me to do it._

_May you live the rest of your life in peace,_

_Draco_

I read over it.  It looked all right.  I rather liked my ending sentence.  I folded the letter over and wrote my father's name on the front.  Next I was writing the one to my mother.

_Dear Mum,_

          I'm sorry.  But I couldn't live anymore.  Thank you for trying.  Please, try and leave Father, try and make it on your own.  I love you mummy-

_Draco_

          That letter needed nothing more.  My mother knew this was inevitable, at one time I would have .  But I think it's sooner than she thinks.  I'll miss her.  She was the one person I knew who cared about me.

          Next I was writing to Potter and his friends, Weasley and Granger.  I needed to get this off my mind, or I would die feeling guilty.  And then I was _sure_ I would go to hell.

_Potter, Weasley and Granger—_

_          It's Draco Malfoy.  I know you are surprised to receive a letter from me, but by the time you receive this, I will already be dead._

_          I am going to soon, within the next ten minutes.  I know no one is going to miss me, but I just wanted to tell you why I hate you so much, just to get it out of my head before I die._

_          I always hated you all because your lives were perfect.  You always seemed to have everything.  Your lives were perfect, especially in comparison to mine._

_Weasley, you had a loving family, and more siblings than I can count.  Someone is always home at your house, someone to take to, to share your feelings with.  They all love you, and you have never known anything but love.  You might not have much money, but that love makes up for it, because you always get by._

_Granger, you might be a muggle-born, but it doesn't matter.  You're the best witch in our year, maybe in Hogwarts history.  You might be a study-aholic, but I've heard you talk about your parents and your house, and you are loved too.  You might even be as wealthy as I am, for all I know.  And you love, and you are being loved.  Do you want to know by whom?  It's Potter.  Ask him sometime.  Oh, and Potter, if you're reading this, it's for your own good._

_Potter, I know you think you are terribly unfortunate not having parents, but it really is better.  You can always be free to dream, to fantasize what they were like. Because you never knew them.  But my father is stunningly realistic, and, try as I might, he is never far from my fantasies._

_I was abused, as you never were.  And I think that counts for something._

_Oh, and the Granger thing.  I've seen the way you look at her, and she back.  Don't try and tell me (or my corpse, really) that you aren't completely in love with Hermione Granger._

_Well, I have said all that is needed, and I will be gone by the time you receive this.  I hope I haven't hurt you too much in the past, but I apologize now._

_Draco Malfoy_

That one was fine, I didn't bother going over it.  I just hoped they would understand.  And I hope that Potter and Granger _finally_ realize how _stupid_ they are, not to have realized how they feel for each other.

Now I had one last letter to write, and I would be done.  Then I could get it over with, and move on.

_To whoever finds me—_

_My name is Draco Malfoy.  I on Christmas Day at about 9:00 at night.  _

_Please deliver the letter lying next to me to the people I have indicated.  And tell Dumbledore that I , like I always threatened to do._

_After finishing this letter I will take the Malfoy Blade, which you will probably find stuck in my chest, and .  _

_Farewell cruel world—_

_Draco Malfoy_

There, I was done with the letters.  I laid them to the side and picked up the Malfoy Blade.  The hilt was still warm and the rubies encrusted in the hilt were also glowing, and hot to the touch.  

I placed my hand on my chest, searching for my heartbeat.  Finding it, I placed the tip of the blade where my heart beat the strongest.

Now to go through with it.

I took a deep breath…and pushed the blade in.

Blood spurted out, pouring onto my hands, dying them scarlet.  I felt a strange calm.  It didn't hurt, but I felt a strange detachment.  And, like everyone always says, my life flashed before my eyes as my life bled away onto the snow.  And I saw…

…my father beating me when I was three.  I was bleeding, bruised and terrified.  But even at the age of three I had learned not to cry out, or to make a sound.  I had to endure in silence.

…my Hogwarts letter when I was eleven.  I had been so proud, I had gotten into Hogwarts!  I showed father, but he just turned away, saying, "Of course you got into Hogwarts you idiot.  And you'd better make it into Slytherin too."  I was crushed.  

…myself meeting Potter in the robes shop.  I thought he was a charity student, not the famous Harry Potter.  But even if I did know, I wouldn't have cared.  Harry Potter was my enemy.  He killed the Dark Lord.

…my Initiation, swearing me into the Dark Lord's Death Eaters.  The Dark Mark was branded onto my arm, and I screamed, the first sound I had made at pain in years.  The pain was hot, all consuming and immediate.  And it was also the sound of my life, leaving me.  I lost consciousness and my father flayed me the instant we got home.  I was wounded for weeks, all because of a scream of pain.  Malfoys endure, apparently.

…my mother, being forced to beat me, under the Imperius curse.  This was a huge entertainment to my father.  But I looked in my mother's eyes and I saw her trying to fight.  But she was too weak, from years of fear.

…Potter, looking at me when we met in the hall near Halloween this year.  His eyes were deadened, haunted.  It terrified me.  And, surprisingly enough, he told me everything about the third task.  I put a Memory Charm on him, so he wouldn't remember, but he told me.  And shed more tears than I thought were possible.  And I listened.  He didn't remember this side of me, the real me, but it happened.

The flood of memories ended, and for an instant, pain rushed at me, and I screamed.  I mostly screamed just to prove I could.

I looked to the sky.  Luna, in all her splendor, was directly above.  The sky was dotted with stars, more than I had ever seen in my life.  They were the last things I saw.  

And the last words I uttered, to my dismay, were, "Death is but the next great adventure."


End file.
